


Captain Lannister's Final Mission

by Anonymous



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Based on a Cary Grant Film, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Post WW2ish, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28715304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A complete ripoff of Cary Grant's I was a Male War Bride, in a post World War 2 Westeros that I have put absolutely zero thought in to. Captain Lannister has only one mission left for the Stormlands army, and he has been assigned his (least)favourite Lieutenant.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47
Collections: Anonymous





	Captain Lannister's Final Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Literally the only thing I've ever written, but the premise of the film was too good, and the idea refused to leave me so I've done my best!

Captain Jaime Lannister of the Westerlands Economic Mission strolled into headquarters with a spring in his step. The sun was shining, rations had been doubled and the war was nearly won. If it took him twice as long to button his jacket in the morning, and he now had to tie his tie before he put it on over his head, well his jacket was still buttoned and his tie still tied. Things could be much worse. This was to be his final mission for the Stormlands army and then he could go back to whatever was left of his home. 

He saluted the sergeant at the door, tucked his cap under his arm and made his way through the maze of corridors and acronymed rooms inside the building, pausing only when he saw, through a glass door, a familiar blond head which, despite being seated at her desk, still managed to tower over the other women in the administration office.

Smiling properly for the first time in weeks, he rechecked the contents of his satchel and sauntered over to her desk.

“Can I help you sir?” Brienne asked absentmindedly, before raising her head from her paperwork. Like all the other women in the office she was dressed in her Stormlands army uniform, with a sensible skirt and matching jacket that only served to emphasize the breadth and strength of her shoulders. Her incredible blue eyes met his and she frowned. “Oh, it's you.” 

They had worked together on several missions now, and although their relationship had improved considerably since that awful first trip, he still delighted in pushing her perfectly polished buttons.

“Yes indeed.” He replied with a wicked grin, awkwardly shifting his bag to his right arm so he could reach inside with his left. He pulled out the first garment his hand touched.

“One nightshirt.” He paused, held up the large white item in question. “Night gown? What do you call this thing?”

Brienne's face turned to one of alarm as she snatched it from his hand. “Jaime please.”

“One pair of bloomers.” These were deposited on the already crowded desk in front of an increasingly red Brienne. “Two pairs of stockings, why, look at that Lieutenant, you’ve got a run in them, must be those long legs of yours.” He stretched them out for Brienne to see.

“Jaime,” said Brienne desperately. 

“Just a moment.” He replied cheerfully, rummaging right to the bottom of his bag. “There, one slip.” This was added on to the growing pile.

“I think that’s all, sorry I couldn’t get them to you sooner.” Brienne just stared at him, speechless with rage.

“Well, goodbye, Lieutenant Tarth.” With a final grin Captain Jaime Lannister turned sharply on his heel and strode out the room. 

Brienne stood up hastily, scrambling to gather her things into her hands, her cheeks heating in response to the disapproving and frankly disbelieving stares her colleagues were casting her way. She stormed after him, shutting the door to the office behind her and catching up with him in the corridor.

“You rotter, you dirty stinking rotter.” Her voice shook with fury.

“Oh, did I forget something?” The grin on his face belied his innocent tone.

“You appalling excuse for a man, you can go right back in there and explain that our laundry got mixed up at Harrenhal, and you just forgot to give it back.” 

“Well that’s not a very interesting story.”

“You know what you’ve made them think.”

“And what would that be then?” Interesting he thought, it was possible to make the Wench go redder, and there he was thinking that they had reached her limits on their last mission where an unfortunate incident had occurred involving a dog called Biter having a little nip of the Lieutenant’s left arse cheek.

“You know perfectly well, that they thought we had, that we were...” Brienne trailed off, too flustered to continue.

“What, us? You and me?” He feigned horror. “Well, I’d be glad to put them right, the very idea is horrifying.”

Brienne flinched back, the anger in her face being replaced with something more resigned. She moved to block him as he turned to go back into the room, making full use of the extra inches in height she had on him.

“No, never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

“I’d be delighted to explain I think you’re repulsive…” He knew immediately that he had once again taken the joke too far.

“I said never mind,” snapped Brienne, hurt in her eyes.

“Brienne, I -"

“You’ve had your joke sir,” she interrupted briskly. “Why are you here anyway?”

Jaime let out a huff of air and decided not to dig any deeper. “Official business with the Stormlands army.” 

“Then you’d best get back to it.”

With a last regretful look Jaime turned and started heading down the corridor. Brienne checked her watch and realised she was about to be late to her own briefing. She arrived at Major Hunt’s office with a few moments to spare and was annoyed to find that, despite having deliberately taken the back staircase in the hopes of avoiding him, a familiar face was loitering outside.

“Back again Wench?”

“I have a meeting with Major Hunt at 14:30,” she replied sharply.

“So do I," he replied, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. 

“Another mission then?”

“Yes, but don’t get your hopes up, you’re not going with me.”

“Who is the latest victim?” Brienne asked too casually.

“Lieutenant Margery Tyrell, who I am reliably informed is very intelligent.”

“Yes,” nodded Brienne in agreement.

“And very pretty.”

“Unlike me you mean,” retorted Brienne.

“Now wench, I didn’t say anything of the sort.” Jaime stood up properly and stepped towards her.

“You’ve already said that many times.”

“I was in pain, it was still early days of the alliance, I never -”

“We have a meeting,” interrupted Brienne, rapping firmly on the door to Major Hunt’s office. It was a small office for a Major of the Stormlands army, and, rather like the man himself, contained absolutely no hint of personality. 

Major Hunt stood to great them both

“Captain Lannister, Lieutenant Tarth,” he smiled far more broadly at Brienne.

“Major Hunt,” they replied, saluting the man.

“I have your mission Captain Lannister, but I’m afraid Lieutenant Tyrell has been called away urgently.” He turned back to Brienne. “Lieutenant Tarth, you are to take her place.”

“But sir,” Brienne spluttered. “Surely one of the other lieutenants.”

“Captain Lannister wants our best,” explained Major Hunt. “And the two of you have already worked together successfully.”

Brienne allowed herself a tiny snort.

“Well, it’s not really an important mission, I’m sure the request for an officer was only a technicality,” said Jaime.

“Nevertheless my job is to fill your requirements to the letter and Lieutenant Tarth here…” Major Hunt trailed off, staring rather fixedly at the undergarments in her hand. 

Brienne blushed. “Captain Lannister has just returned some of my things from our last mission together,” she explained, attempting to fold them into a smaller bundle. Jaime glared at the man and moved to stand slightly in front of Brienne.

Major Hunt swallowed heavily and cleared his throat. “Yes, of course Lieutenant Tarth.” He flicked through the papers on his desk until he found the file he wanted, holding it out thoughtlessly to Captain Lannister and forcing him to juggle his possessions so he could take it with his left hand.  
“Here are your orders and security pass, Captain Lannister will brief you on your mission Tarth.”

"Yes sir." At the clear dismissal Brienne saluted with her one free hand and left the room. Jaime, having no hands left, opted for a less than respectful nod of his head and hurried after her.

* * *

Brienne arrived at their rendezvous point, kit bag packed and filled with dread and a tingle of excitement. While she loathed Captain Lannister with her whole heart, she had to admit they worked well together, and since their first awful mission which had nearly cost Jaime his hand, there was something of a bond between them. And he was awfully pretty too. She allowed herself to admit.

“Wench!” exclaimed a cheerful voice from across the complex. And loathsome too.

“Captain Lannister.” She nodded at the man, as he bounded across the concrete towards her, determinedly keeping her face blank.

The staff sergeant was a short enthusiastic man, with a huge bushy beard and a way of leering at Brienne that made her deeply uncomfortable. He also had a habit of insisting she called him Tormund.

“Another mission Brienne?” 

“Yes Sergeant. We’ll need transportation.”

“Out of luck today, all our jeeps are checked out.” He gestured to the empty lots.

“Do you have anything?” she asked.

He paused for a moment, stroking his enormous beard. “Well we’ve got motorcycles, and I can hook up a sidecar for you.” Then he hesitated, studying Jaime. “Have you renewed your licence since your...accident?”

Jaime has just about mastered the art of jamming his right arm into the steering wheel of a jeep while changing gears with his left but he was pretty sure a motorcycle would be beyond him. 

“Nope.” Jaime replied cheerfully. “But I’m sure we can manage.”

“Not without a licence, you’ll just have to wait until a jeep comes back,” 

“I can drive a motorcycle,” declared Brienne.

Tormund frowned. “Licenced?”

Brienne produced the paper that proved it so. Unable to think of any other objections, Tormund led them over to the motorcycles. 

“How will you even get on it in that skirt? Are you going to ride side saddle?” The obnoxious man chuckled at his own joke.

“I’ll change!” Brienne huffed, exasperated. She slung her kit bag back over her shoulder and marched into one of the outbuildings.

Jaime winced at the exchange. He knew it was still a sore spot for her that women in the Stormlands army were still only permitted to wear trousers when on active duty.

“What a woman eh?” boomed Tormund, nudging Jaime with his elbow in an overly friendly way.

“Say that once more and you’ll never chew with your own teeth again,” retorted Jaime, moving swiftly away from him.

Brienne returned quickly, dark green skirt and jacket having been exchanged for overalls and heavy boots. There was an awkward tension now between the two men which she decided to ignore.

She dumped her bag in the side car and then swung her long legs over the motorcycle in one smooth move.

Jaime stared at her with wide eyes.

“Well?” she asked impatiently, checking the position of the clutch and brakes and pulling on her helmet and goggles.

Jaime blinked and seemed to shake himself. 

“Yep, coming,” he said brightly, folding himself into the tiny sidecar next to her, and moving their bags to rest on his lap.

Brienne revved the motorcycle a couple of times and drove them off. As they were leaving Jaime twisted awkwardly in his seat to look back at Tormund, offering him a cheery little wave. 

“The staff sergeant is rather friendly isn't he?” Jaime began casually once they had left headquarters, passed the bombed out remains of the city and were flying along the dusty road out into the countryside. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but he keeps asking me out to a dance.” Brienne kept her eyes fixed on the road in front.

“And will you go?”

“You sound quite jealous.”

“Jealous!” Jaime snorted in disbelief. “He’s too short for you anyway.”

“Well I will be waiting a long time for a man that’s taller.”

“So you are going to step out with him?”

“No one’s stepping anywhere.” Brienne accelerated to shut him up, and for a few blessed moments there was silence except for the roar of the engine. 

“I believe you are deliberately aiming for every pothole on this track.” He attempted to move his limbs into a slightly more comfortable position inside his glorified jolting bathtub.

Brienne didn’t deign to respond to that, but she did allow herself a tiny smile.

* * *

It was deep into the night by the time they arrived at Old Town and Brienne dismounted from the motorcycle with a barely suppressed groan. Her shoulders were in agony. So much of the Riverlands was still in turmoil because of the war and the journey had been a disaster of roadblocks, missed turnings and sabotaged signposts one after another . Not to mention the spectacularly unhelpful map reading and pointed suggestions from her sidecar passenger.

Like so many of the towns they had passed the streets were run down and almost completely deserted and the inn was no different. Fortunately this also meant they had no trouble at all booking separate rooms. Brienne, cold, miserable and still unable to move her arms properly, had never been happier at the promise of a bed.

Pajamas on and ablutions completed she had just turned down the covers when there was a knock on the door.

“It’s me,” an irritating voice whispered from the other side.

Brienne opened the door with a sigh. “What do you want Jaime?” He stood in the hallway with a strangely nervous energy. He was still in his uniform, but he had removed his jacket and tie.

“I just thought I should brief you properly before we go into town tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Brienne agreed reluctantly, letting the man into her room. “But make it quick.”

Jaime sauntered in, a mysterious bottle in his hand and without even asking permission sat down on her lovely bed.

“There’s a man in the town called Qyburn, he’s an experimental scientist the Westerlands government wants, and we’re here to persuade him he’d rather work for them than carry on selling his wares on the black market,” explained Jaime.

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“No,” admitted Jaime. “But the issue is we have to find him.” He watched as Brienne attempted to subtly stretch out her neck and shoulders. “How’s your back?

“Awful, thank you,” she replied.

“Well get on the bed.” He patted the mattress next to him.

Brienne took a step back, knuckles white from her grip on the side of the door. “How dare you?”

“Come on, I’ve bought some liniment,” He shook the bottle in his hand at her. “Get into bed and I’ll put it on your back.”

“Oh.” Maybe she had been too quick to judge him, and her back was frightful. She moved round the room to lie on the bed. 

“Take your shirt off too,” added Jaime helpfully. 

Brienne pulled her shirt closer around her. “I will not!” she declared, aghast.

“How will I rub your back through your shirt?”

“You’re not going to rub my back through anything.”

“Otherwise you’ll be in an even worse state tomorrow.”

As a compromise Brienne allowed herself to unbutton the first couple of buttons so her shoulders and the top of her back were exposed underneath her short hair. 

Brienne couldn’t help the moan that escaped her as Jaime poured on the oil and began rubbing her shoulder.

“Any louder and they’ll think we’ve smuggled a cow in here," he teased.

“You are awful,” grumbled Brienne, but she couldn't be that cross with him when he was doing such wonderful things to the knots in her shoulders.

A second, more hesitant hand with considerable fewer fingers touched her shoulder and then promptly retreated. She reached behind to grab it and put it back.

“You know I’ve never minded your hand Jaime.” Brienne murmured sleepily, burying her face deeper into her pillow. He continued his massage in blessed silence for a few moments. “Mmmm, if I fall asleep promise me you’ll leave.”

“I promise.” he replied softly.

“About this mission,” she started.

“Mmm?” 

“Is it really so important?” asked Brienne.

“Not for the army no, but it’s my last assignment.”

“Oh.” There was such a long pause that Jaime was convinced she had actually fallen asleep. He slowed to a complete stop and wiped the lotion of his hands on the sheet next to her.  
“I think,” Brienne mumbled almost too quietly for him to hear. “I think I would miss working with you Jaime.”

“Good night Brienne,” Jaime whispered, and gently tugged her shirt back up and pulled the sheets on the bed up to cover her. 

Jaime smiled at Brienne’s sleeping form and tiptoed across the room to open the door. However, as soon as he tried to turn the handle, the blasted thing came off in his hand. Cursing he attempted to fix it back on and heard a thud as the handle on the other side of the door fell off too. He tried taking his side's handle off again and putting it back on but it just hung there swinging uselessly. There was no way to make it turn. As quietly as he could he tried to shove open the door with his shoulder, but it wouldn't even budge. Brienne was never going to believe this.

With a sigh, he scratched the back of his head and made his way over to the only other furniture in the room, an uncomfortable wicker armchair. He sat down on the thing and did his best to curl his body into a comfortable position, resting his head on the awful wooden frame. Several miserable hours passed in various painful postures before he finally gave up, crossed the room while attempting to regain circulation in his limbs and, scooting as far away from Brienne as he possibly could, lay on the bed. Within moments he was fast asleep.

* * *

He was rudely awoken the next morning by an irate Brienne crashing a pillow down on his face.

“How could you do this, oh I should have known, of course I couldn’t trust you!” Brienne shouted, punctuating her sentences with feathery explosions against his head and chest. For a moment he just stared at her in sleepy confusion. “What are you doing? Get out of here!”

He blinked at her a couple more times before his brain finally caught up and remembered the events of last night. “I can’t get out!” he exclaimed.

“I said get out!”

“And I said I can’t!” Jaime retorted scrambling off the bed and out from under her assault. 

“Why not?” Brienne asked, throwing the now considerably smaller pillow down on the bed pulling her robe on.

“Because the door handle has come off”

“What an excuse!”

“See if you can think of a better one!”

“I don’t believe you,” Brienne declared, angrily tying the knot in front of her.

“Then try and open the door.”

“I will.” To Jaime’s shock and horror, the door immediately opened in Brienne’s hand. She shut it again, crossing her arms and turning to Jaime with a fiery glare. 

“But, it was broken!” he spluttered.

“Put on your shoes and get out.”

A loud banging on the door interrupted their shouting. Brienne gaped at Jaime in alarm.

“Who is it?” asked Brienne in a shaky voice.

“Mrs Hill, the innkeeper's wife.” A muffled voice from behind the door replied.

“Jaime,” Brienne hissed. “She can’t see you, what will she think!” Brienne cast her gaze around searching for inspiration. “Get out the window!” She pushed him towards it.

“What no, Brienne, this is all a mistake.”

“Yes I think it was.” Jaime's face turned horribly blank, he stopped protesting and allowed himself to be shoved towards the window. It was only a short jump down and Brienne was too angry to look out to see if he had made it safely. His boots, which were still on the floor by the chair, were also quickly grabbed and flung from the window.

Brienne straightened her shirt, smoothed her hair back and attempted to look professional. She opened the door widely, attempting to make it clear that there was no one else in the room.

“Hello,” she greeted, trying not to seem breathless. The short, middle-aged woman looked back at her nonplussed, not even trying to look behind Brienne.

“Madam, I came to apologize,” she said.

“What for?” asked Brienne flummoxed.

“When I came by this morning your door handle was on the floor, I fixed it, but I was worried you’d been locked in during the night.”

“You… fixed it.” 

“Yes madam, the door handle.” She pointed to the item in question and gave it a jiggle to demonstrate. 

Brienne rudely did not even thank the woman, just reclosed the door and rushed over to the window. But when she stuck her head out Jaime was already gone.

* * *

It didn’t take Brienne long to find Jaime once she had changed back into her uniform and made her way downstairs. He had opted to wear the casual jacket and corduroy trousers of the locals.

“Jaime, I’m sorry, the innkeeper’s wife explained to me all about the door handle.”

“Oh so you’ll believe her will you? Maybe you don’t like working with me, but I would have thought after all these missions I might have at least earnt some trust from you,”

“That’s not fair.”

“Yes it’s unfair to be expected to trust someone with my reputation,”

“Now you’re being ridiculous, of course I trust you.”

“Oh so you didn’t push me out a window mere moments ago?”

“I’m trying to apologise.”

“Well I don’t want it.” Jaime paused, opened his mouth to start talking, stopped himself and then finally sighed. “I think we should look for Qyburn separately.” Jaime pushed past Brienne and headed out into the town square. 

With her own sigh Brienne also headed out, and marched in the opposite direction to him.

“Brienne, Brienne!” Brienne turned to see a familiar bushy beard that could belong only to Sergeant Tormund Giantsbane.

“What are you doing here?” she asked with resignation.

“The local police are going to round up some of the blackmarket, wanted some of the army on standby in case things got messy, I thought you’d have already been in and got out by now.”

“Yes, well, there were some delays on the road." He waited to see if she would explain further but Brienne did not have the energy.  
“Can I get you breakfast?”

Normally Brienne would have said no without a second thought, but she was still more than a little miffed by Jaime’s anger with her and her stomach was eagerly agreeing for her.

“Sure.”

That took their seats on one of the little tables outside the cafe, Brienne ordered only some tea and toast while Tormund paid for every single sausage they had on the premises, and rationing be damned.

In between enormous mouthfuls Tormund gestured to a shabby looking building across the square. “That’s the place there, should be any minute now.”

Sure enough only a few moments later they watched as the police began their raid. Loud cries came from inside as more and more men were arrested, and dragged out the building. Suddenly a man with a familiar mop of golden hair was marched out of the building, loudly protesting his innocence and declaring that he was a Captain in the Westerlands army.

Green eyes met hers, and narrowed as they took in the cosy scene she and Tormund had created.

* * *

They had kept Brienne waiting for over two hours before they finally believed her about Jaime’s mission and allowed him to go. 

“You took your time,” said Jaime accusingly as they walked together on the street back to the inn. Brienne noticed he was holding his right hand awkwardly tucked into his chest.

“I came as soon as I could.”

“Just as soon as you had finished your little date.”

“Tormund actually managed to find Qyburn for us, and he’s agreed to take up the Stormland Government’s offer.”

They had arrived back at the inn.

“I guess that's the mission complete then, I’m going to go change.” Though she desperately wanted him to, Jaime did not look back once as he crossed the parlour and up the stars at the back of the inn.

Brienne allowed herself a few more moments that usual to repack her bag and ready her room for leaving. She smoothed back her hair as best she could, re-polished her boots and checked and rechecked that her overalls were buttoned up correctly and the creases were as smooth as she could make them. Then she went and knocked on Jaime's door. 

"Come in," he barked sharply.

He was obviously still in the middle of dressing, clad only in his high waisted wool trousers and struggling to get a shirt over his head. Her cheeks reddened as she took in the sight of his chest. Softer maybe from when she first met him, his golden hair now tinged with grey but still solid and… Brienne dragged her eyes up to meet his smirking face as it finally emerged from his shirt.

“Oh, shut up.” She said good naturedly.

Brienne crossed over to him, hands automatically reaching to help button his shirt. He allowed her to button his shirt and even to knot his tie for him but stepped away when she reached for his sloppily bandaged hand.

"One of the other guys in prison remembered me from the early days of the war," he explained, staring hard at a fixed point somewhere over Brienne's shoulder.

On their first mission together, when Brienne was still young and naive, she had been almost caught in a bomb blast while trying to free her commanding officer from the barbed wire in which he had become entangled. Jaime, thoroughly annoyed at having her presence forced upon him, and still with a reputation for disobeying commanding officers which he had earnt under General Aerys, had pulled her out the way, and shielded her with his body. As a consequence his whole right arm was a mass of scar tissue, his thumb and first two fingers curled awkwardly and nothing was left of his index and little finger but short stumps. Now on top of this he appeared to have spit open all his knuckles and caused further damage to his remaining fingers.

"Come on let me bandage this properly you can hardly afford to..." Brienne had started the sentence unthinkingly and she chose to let it trail off reaching for his hand once more.

"To lose any more fingers you mean?" Replied Jaime bitterly, but he allowed her to take his hand and undo the already bloody bandage.

She worked in silence, manipulating his fingers as gently as she could and slowly wrapping his hand in white cloth.

“I guess this is it then Wench. Our last time working together.” Brienne stilled, her hands still clasping his injured one. He suddenly seemed very close.

“Unless.” He titled his face to look directly into her eyes.

“Unless what Jaime?” 

“What if you married me?” 

“If this is a jape..”

“It’s not,” replied Jaime grasping Brienne’s arm desperately. “Marry me Brienne.” 

“Alright.”

“Alright? Is that all you have to...” Brienne silenced him by pressing her lips to his.

“Alright.” he smiled.

Of course nothing was ever simple in Jaime Lannister’s life. Tarth had already reached its annual quota for new immigration, and that was how Jaime would end up on board a ferry, dressed as a female Army nurse with documentation declaring he was an Alien Spouse of Female Military Personnel Enroute to Tarth Under Public Law 271. 

The things he’d do for love.


End file.
